


In time

by Siemari



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath, Caretaking, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Reflection, Self-Reflection, learning to love again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siemari/pseuds/Siemari
Summary: SPOILERS:After Miguel is sent back to the world of the living, and the aftermath of his return; and his success.Reflection time between Héctor and Imelda.





	In time

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THE MOVIE. PLEASE, OH PLEASE, WATCH THIS WONDERFUL FILM. IT'S LIFE CHANGING.
> 
> \--
> 
> I quickly fell head over heels for Héctor and my heart yearns for more reflection and insight into his rekindled love with Imelda. His struggle is beautiful and tragic and I'm HERE. FOR. THAT.
> 
> Héctor's pain is a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day and I'm thirsty.
> 
> (I might add more, I'd like to add more, but knowing me...this will be a short contained story~Thanks for reading!)

The fading pains had started a week ago.

A sudden rush of hot agony where his stomach would have been, caused Héctor to grab at the empty space of his abdomen, and double over. He hit the cobble stones hard on his knees and fell into his elbows with a choked cry. A few passerby's paused to look him over, though no one helped him stand.

An elderly man called out to him, but didn't approach, “You goin' to be okay, Amigo?”

Héctor let out a gasp to release the pain that had built up in his chest, as the wash of light over his bones flickered out. He didn't know what the old man expected in response. He was definitely not okay. Héctor stared at the ground, at the bones of his knuckles, and the fists he clenched into the stone under him.

“She's forgetting me. She's finally forgetting...” Héctor gritted his teeth and pushed himself up onto his good leg. His bones rattled as he limped back onto his feet and held his arms around his ribs.

Día de los muertos was in one week...

Héctor didn't head back to his place that evening, he wandered until the sun began to rise, and found himself sitting on a bench while he watched the sky shift into orange. He stared into the sunrise as his eyes burned.

 

* * *

 

Now, Héctor lay prone on the ground, cradled in Imelda's arms. As flashes of pain continued to wrack his bones. He was too tired to struggle against each flare of light as the pain sunk deep into his marrow, and placed a weight over his skeleton. Miguel had gone home, but...had it been in time? Héctor gasped as the pain shifted. He felt it behind his eyes now and he twisted his face against the sharp sensation.

 _“Héctor!_ Don't you dare leave me again, _tonto!”_

Imelda...Oh, sweet Imelda. _To die again, but this time in your arms_...It was bitter sweet.

Héctor turned his face into her frame, and cracked an eye open. His body now held a steady glow of yellow light.

“Imelda...I have so much I want to tell you still. But I don't have–“ Héctor sucked in a breath and uttered a soft groan, “I don't have the time. So let me say this...”

Imelda's mouth made a hard line as she stared down at Héctor. A stern depth to her brow as if to warn, _Careful._ “Just hold on. You better hold on!”

Héctor blinked up to watch her face shift, he wanted to laugh. “You turned me away...so many times. In life and in death. I love you, Imelda. You're the love of my life, and in my death you're the only one I could ever want. You don't deserve this...Imelda, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can never say it enough. Please tell Coco, well...you know what to tell her.”

Héctor felt Imelda take his hand, and lift it to her cheek bone, _“How dare you...”_ She closed her eyes and leaved into him as the light of his body grew brighter. Héctor braced himself as the pain steadily intensified. There reached a point where the hot flashes felt cold, and as he tipped over the edge, he didn't feel anything at all. He couldn't keep his eyes open and felt his head lull back. The sensation of falling overtook him–

and his body jerked.

Héctor let out a scream and reached his arms up. He flexed his fingers and grabbed at empty air as he blinked the world into focus. Flowers cluttered the bedroom, so many that he could barely make out the colour of the walls. The ceiling was height and the doors of the bedroom balcony were open to let in fresh air and early morning sunlight. His arms fell limp at his side, and he shuddered.

He was laying in a bed. Plush, with thick purple and cream coloured sheets. He was almost certain this was Imelda's room. As he twisted his head around he noticed the shoes beside the door, and the purple dresses in the closet. 

_Imelda._

His ribs aches.

His chest heaved as he fought down his panic. “Did I...Did Miguel– Wh-what _h–"_  Hector felt his body cramp, and shifted his aching bones to try and sit up.

Imelda practically kicked down the door of the bedroom.

“Héctor! You screamed! _You're awake!”_

Héctor blinked, stunned by her entrance and her words, “He...he made it?  _I made it!?”_

Imelda threw herself across the plush bed to embrace Héctor. Their skulls clacked together and they laughed, entangle in a tight embrace. Héctor wasn't sure if it was the laughing or if he was simply overwhelmed by it all, but he wasn't feeling so great.

 _“Imelda–"_  he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and dipped his head low, “I feel sick.”

Imelda brushed his hair away from his forehead, “I was told you might not be feeling well. It's not often that the forgotten are...remembered, so suddenly. Just in time.”

Héctor leaned into her touch. Skeletons couldn't get sick, but the pain was real, and the mind remembered. The sick twisting and flop of his non existent stomach had him pressed back into the pillows with a tight groaned. He heard Imelda murmur something about _“letting him rest”_ , and without looking he grabbed her wrist and kept her from sliding off the bed.

“Can you sit with me?” He pleaded, “Just for a little while longer?”

“Si, Hector. Of course I can,” Imelda sat neatly on the bed at his side, his hand in hers. Hector lay still, afraid that any movement might stir up the pain that had settled within him. He had kept his eyes closed for sometime, but knew sleep was inevitable.

“I'm afraid,” he said finally, a weak crack to his voice.

Imelda frowned, “You can rest now.”

Héctor's brow furrowed and he worked to keep his breathing even, but the sob that tore through his frame threatened to break bone. His entire skeleton felt bruised. No tears were capable of falling from his eye sockets, but the act of crying would never change, in life, or death. It would always hurt, and it would heal...

Héctor rolled onto his side and grabbed at the bedsheets, he sobbed loudly and freely. Imelda collected herself and curled up next to him. She held him closer now, and as Hector cried, her arms embraced him fully. The two of them cried out bottled up emotions until finally Hector fell asleep, and Imelda joined him in soft slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

They awoke in each others arms, and awkwardly detangled bone from bone with a cough, and a chuckle.

“I'll...see you downstairs when you're ready,” Imelda said, sliding from the bed and adjusting her hair. She smoothed her dress and cleared her throat, fully aware of how Héctor was watching her. Hector watched her step to the door and pause. “I still need time, Héctor,” she started, and looked back at him over her shoulder, “But, we have just that, _time.”_

Héctor caught her smile as she left, and felt a weight in his chest lift. He raised his arms loosely and draped them over his skull with a sigh.

“Gracias, Chamaco...

 

 

**_Gracias.”_ **


End file.
